


trembling hands play my heart like the drum

by orphan_account



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-21 20:58:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Carlos slowly realizes that sometimes you don't have to speak in order to say something.</p>
<p>Oh, and that Cecil isn't as average as he looks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	trembling hands play my heart like the drum

**Author's Note:**

> Birthday fic for my friend Demi! I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> The title comes from the Panic At The Disco song "Nearly Witches", which in my opinion is a total Cecil/Carlos song. I recommend that you listen to it.

When Carlos first arrives in Night Vale, he knows that the location is notorious for being scientifically strange. What he does not expect is for the people to be strange along with it.

He does not expect to see actual, living angels (that only tell lies, according to the officials, but Carlos chooses to ignore them). He does not expect to encounter a house that doesn't exist, or a commercial airliner coasting through an elementary school gym. He does not expect the traditional Valentine's Day massacres, the sacrificial bake sales, the ducks that only exist on alternate Thursdays, etc. As a whole, he does expect Night Vale itself to be seemingly adapted to the anomalies that appear every day, maybe even apart of it. You can't separate Night Vale from its people, it seems.

Everybody has a quirk, and not one that people would pass off as part of their personality, oh no. The librarians are vicious, and hardly ever see sunlight before screeching. The elementary school teachers have a third eye on their backs to keep track of the children. One morning he saw a man walk his dog, disappear for a few seconds, and then reappear at the other end of the street. His downstairs neighbor holds group seances in order to contact Billy Mays. The secret police aren't even a _secret_ ,the city council always talks in unison. Entire families sport gas masks, the NRA literally have bear arms (all of them, this isn't a joke), and the town's basketball team apparently died five years ago. It seems to Carlos, at first, that he and his team of other scientists are the only normal-looking, normal-acting beings within a forty mile radius.

That is, until he meets Cecil Baldwin.

If one was to describe Cecil Baldwin after first meeting him, they would say that he seems to not be a strange man, but rather an average man who's accustomed to strange things. After all, you have to get used to the unexplainable when you're in a town like this.

The day he meets Cecil, Carlos finds himself surprised--which has been a common feeling he has felt throughout the first week of his Night Vale citizenship. When he meets Cecil Baldwin, the man claims to be a reporter, yet has no notepad or microphone on him. He is merely a man of average height, perhaps a bit of a thinner build, and a pleasant personality. His hair is blonde, his complexion a shade above pale, and he wears the average office-goer's outfit, sleeves rolled down and tie pressed. 

The only things off about him are the voice and the eyes.

The voice is actually not so much as _odd_ , but more of enrapturing. The citizens of Night Vale say he is a host at the local radio station, and Carlos can tell why. Though he stutters slightly when he first introduces himself, his voice is nice to listen to and has a soothing effect Carlos can't explain.

But the eyes are a different story. He passes it off as a small genetic mutation, but then again Carlos mastered in physics, not genetics. They're a light purple, the kind of color you would see when a sunset is dying off into the night sky. And although some would classify it as strange, in a town like this Carlos finds it to be the most normal thing he's ever seen.

Cecil asks for an interview, and Carlos says yes. After a couple of questions and the exchanging of phone numbers (for business purposes, of course), there's a shaking of hands that ends up in the two of them awkwardly stammering a goodbye. As Cecil leaves the laboratory, Carlos looks back and sees a flicker of light, like a power outage, in the corner of his eye.

Surely it's nothing.

**#**

For the first few months Carlos lives in Night Vale, he doesn't listen to the radio. His other scientists do, and it seems like the entire town does as well, but he's a busy man and has never been one for radio talk shows. He doesn't tell anyone, simply because they never ask. However, one breezy winter day he's eating lunch on one of the many benches found throughout the town, and someone sits next to him. Or, rather, someone with a couple somethings sit next to him.

He scoots down to give more room to the small Old Woman Josie and her two angelic escorts, who's multiple eyes are blinking contently and wings are fluttering absently. The woman looks at him and smiles.

"Hello," she greets pleasantly. The angels wave silently.

He waves back. "Hello," he replies, trying to not sound as wary as he is. He's been here five months and this is the first time he's seen an angel. He tries not to stare, and instead looks at the half eaten sandwich in his lap. It doesn't seem so appetizing anymore. "Uh...how are you?"

"Oh, fine," Old Woman Josie tells him. "The angels are a bit hungry, however, so I'm just escorting them to the bus."

Carlos thinks for a moment. "But there are no bus stops on this street."

"It's on a different plane of existence, sweetie," she informs him. "Much faster compared to the buses on this plane."

"Oh," Carlos says, eyes wide. "That...makes sense." He glances down at his sandwich and holds it up. "Would they, um...do the angels have anything against pepper jack?"

The blessed senior citizen looks up to the two angels sitting next to her, as if communicating something silently, and the both of them nod vigorously. Carlos hands them the sandwich, which they divide between themselves and devour in the blink of an eye. Old Woman Josie chuckles.

"I can see why he likes you," she states. "I mean, aside from the looks. The angels can see it, too."

Carlos frowns. "Excuse me? Who likes me?"

She blinks. The angels do as well. "Have you not heard? It's on the radio every week."

"I don't listen to the radio," he says. "Never have the time."

"Oh, but everybody listens to the radio!" she says. "Everyone in town knows! We're even petitioning for a segment in the show, since he already talks about you so much."

"I'm sorry, but I still have no idea what you're talking about," he tells her.

Old Woman Josie smiles wisely with a twinkle in her eye. "Turn on your radio tonight after the sun sets. It doesn't matter the station, just turn it on and _listen_." 

"Okay," Carlos says slowly.

The angel's absent-minded wing fluttering quickens. all eyes trained on the empty space in front of them. "Oh, my. Looks like this is our bus." She stands up, as do her escorts, and walks to the edge of the sidewalk. She looks back. "Say hello to Cecil for me, would you dear?"

Carlos then watches as Old Woman Josie and the two angels disappear before his very eyes. He then packs his paper lunch bag into a ball, throws it in the trash, and decides that after some work he should probably purchase a radio.

**#**

After another hour at the lab, and some rather alarming findings, Carlos decides to follow Old Woman Josie's orders.

He goes to the Best Buy and purchases a tiny pocket radio, with the speaker and antennae and everything you would expect out of a pocket radio. He packs it into the back of his car, and then heads towards the address that was given to him should he need to get the word out about something and the station is closed. It strangely does not open until two minutes past four in the afternoon. He doesn't question it, because he honestly has enough to question already, and arrives in front of the dusty brick building that is Howard Phillips Apartments. He takes the elevator up to the 4th floor, which is the only floor that is labeled with an actual number, and searches for apartment 439. When he finds said door, he knocks lightly and waits for an answer.

The door opens to Cecil Baldwin, eyes closed and sighing. "I told you, Mrs. Bly, I'm not helping you with the bansh--oh." His violet eyes go wide, and his face goes three shades pinker. "Uh. Hello, Carlos."

Carlos smiles. "Hello, Cecil." He notices that Cecil's sleeves are rolled up, and on his arms are drawings of multiple colors and shapes that also seem to peek over his collar. Funny, he didn't notice the ones on his neck before. "Are those tattoos?"

"Hm?" Cecil says, and then his mind seems to catch up and he looks down at his arms. "Oh, yes."

"They're--" He can't seem to find a good word without making it sound weird, because to be honest they're beautiful and look like something that took hours of hard work. He wants to say they're amazing, or that they're fascinating. But somehow he blurts out something else entirely. "Cool."

He mentally slaps himself.

Cecil blinks, then forms his mouth into a slightly lopsided smile. "Really?" he says. "Well...thank you." He starts wringing his hands. "So, why are you here, exactly?"

It takes Carlos a moment to get back on topic. "Oh, yes," he says. "I actually do have something to ask you."

"You do?" the radio host asks, voice up an octave--or maybe Carlos is just hearing things.

Carlos nods and fiddles through the contents of his lab coat pockets to pull out the small scanner he's brought with him. "I was running diagnostics on the town a couple weeks back and I noticed that some readings were off and...well, it looks like small black holes are appearing randomly in Night Vale. It could explain the disappearance of the O'Neil family last Friday." He shakes his head. "Anyways, I was just wondering if you could get the word out on your show."

"Of course!" Cecil says. "Yes, of course I will."

Carlos nods. "Good. I guess I'll see you around later, then?" He extends his hand out.

Cecil glances down at the hand and takes it, shaking it. "Definitely."

Carlos then watches in amazement as Cecil's tattoos begin to pulse and dance, tendrils crawling and extending down his arm and onto his hand. The changing shapes and colors swirl and curl, almost as if they're trying to jump off of his skin and onto Carlos.

"Looks like they like you," Cecil comments, laughing nervously.

Carlos shares the same laugh. "The feeling is mutual."

**#**

He sits in his lab, tinkering at his scanner when he notices that the sun is setting. He turns on the radio, not minding the station as Josie said, and returns to his tinkering as the room fills with gentle static.

After the first five minutes he begins to think that the old woman was pulling his leg, but just as he's about to turn the thing off a voice starts sifting through the static and becomes obvious.

"Gentle winds blow across your back," the familiar voice says. "You turn to look behind you, and find yourself facing something you will never be able to touch, see, or taste, yet you know that it is there. Welcome to Night Vale."

Carlos turns up the volume and settles back into his tinkering. Music plays for a bit before Cecil's voice returns to the speakers.

"The Sheriff's Secret Police has issued a statement that nobody is allowed near the elementary school playground," he says. "They did not say why, but they did say that 'It is the end. Oh god, there is nothing but the end'. In unison, I may add, and kneeling while looking towards the sky. They could not be reached for any further comment." Carlos frowns at that, but the nonchalance in Cecil's voice makes it seem like an almost laughable situation. "In other news, the so-called 'Apache Tracker' was spotted dancing around a small fire babbling 'magic Indian incantations' and just being an altogether racist asshole."

Carlos snorts at that, and calmly continues fiddling with the flashlight in his hand. He's always liked taking devices apart and figuring out how they work. Not that he doesn't already know how a flashlight works, but knowing that he can easily put the device back together again fills him with a strange sense of happiness.

He continues listening to the announcements and the commentary, becomes confused when the weather turns out to be a woman singing a song he's never heard before, and continues to listen as the "weather" fades out. He still hasn't heard Cecil talk about the black holes yet, and is getting worried that he may have forgotten.

"Alright, listeners," Cecil says in a stern voice. "I have something urgent to tell all of you. Now, I probably should have told you this first, but I am a firm believer in saving the best for last." He takes a deep breath. " _Carlos visited me today_."

There's an obvious smile in his voice, and a giddiness that Carlos has heard once or twice when talking with Cecil. But it's never been this happy.

"Now, I know I'm supposed to be telling you about the news and everything," he continues, his professional voice completely dropped. "And that's why I saved this for the end. But this has to mean something, right? Okay--let me tell you the full story. So I'm getting ready to come to the station, right? And I hear this knock at my door, and I think it's Mrs. Bly trying to get me to sacrifice myself to keep her banshee quiet _again_. So I open the door, and there he is." He sighs. "Carlos, beautiful Carlos."

Carlos freezes at this point, then proceeds to turn the volume up a bit more.

"He still managed to look radiant with his gorgeous locks shorn," Cecil gushes. Carlos involuntary placed a hand on the top of his head. His haircut can't be _that_ bad. "And he complimented on my tattoos. Oh, they were so happy. They always like complements. Carlos. Kind Carlos." There's a pause, and Carlos can tell that Cecil is sighing again, but much quieter this time. "And so smart, amazing Carlos preceded to say that he needed to ask me something important. Unfortunately, discussing a night out with dancing was not in that question." After that, his voice switches back to a more professional sound. However he did ask me to tell you all, dear listeners, that black holes have begun appearing randomly in Night Vale. I advise that if you see one while you are out, then you must stay away from it. And if you see one inside your home, try to cover it up with a picture or something similar. After all, having guests over while there's an obvious black hole in your wall would be embarrassing."

He continues on for the next minute or two, discussing other topics before the music changes and his voice lowers. "And even in the midst of confusion, we can always rely on the fact that not everything is what it seems. Goodnight, Night Vale. Goodnight."

The static returns, and Carlos quickly turns off the radio, his face feeling warm.

He keeps listening, every night. Sometimes, when he's tired, he'll fall asleep to the sound of Cecil's voice.

**#**

Carlos knows Cecil likes him.

It's obvious, and it isn't like Cecil tries to hide it anyway. At least when Carlos isn't around. When Carlos does drop by, or just happens to see him, Cecil's gushing turns into slight stuttering and attempts at flirting that, while done incorrectly, most certainly aren't ineffective. Honestly it's downright adorable.

Carlos knows he likes Cecil.

He may not have known it earlier, but he knows it now. He really, _really_ likes him. His approach towards romance may be different on and off of the air, but his wit isn't and certainly not his sense of humor. Sometimes he doesn't even know he's being funny, and will play along when Carlos starts laughing. The scientist can tell, but he doesn't say anything. And the thing is, if the opportunity were to come along, Carlos would gladly ask Cecil out.

There's just a few things.

One, there's his work. He can't keep his research funded if he doesn't find anything, and even though he's _found_ things, he needs _proof_. And proof requires big expensive machinery, which goes into his budget, which means that he has to find more things. It's a vicious cycle, but at least it's not as deadly as the man eating bike on the corner of 4th and Bradbury.

Two, Night Vale is proving to be the biggest cock-block on the face of the planet. No, seriously. He's _tried_ to ask Cecil out, but whenever he does something else happens. Sudden freak storms, packs of rabid animals getting loose, etc. In February he was going to get him a Valentine's Day card before learning about what usually happened that day. Needless to say, instead of a night out he preferred the comfort of his laboratory.

And three...he just doesn't know what to say, or if he should say it. He's heard Cecil talk on the radio about him, but what if it's just a big joke? What if it's some sort of initiation they do to all the new people in town? If he finds the confidence he'll start thinking these things, tell himself he's dumb, and then proceed to think about them again and add a couple more humiliating and terrifying episodes to the mix. Frankly, it doesn't end well. He thinks that maybe Cecil will take the initiative, since he's the most open. But it looks like they're both at a standstill, stuck in a game of chess that has reached an impasse and staring at each other as if they think that looking long enough will persuade one of them to make a move.

In short it isn't very fun.

**#**

There are some days that Cecil will simply arrive at the lab, out of the blue. There are days where he just sits and watches Carlos do experiments, asking questions and occasionally saying either "wow, you are really, _really_ smart" or "there's no need to worry, that happens all the time". There are days where he drags Carlos out of his research to look at funny videos of animals, and Carlos will laugh back and Cecil will smile, and at the end of the day he'll leave and all of a sudden the room will become two shades darker. Literally, not figuratively.

And then there are days where Cecil comes by and Carlos finds answers, but not the ones he was looking for in the first place. When those happen he learns about the leprechaun infestation in people's yards, and the inter-dimensional door that will occasionally open and let them in. He finds out about Mr. Oak, who fell into a vat of radioactive waste and did not suffer any side effects except for the fact that his hands pulse rainbow with the occasional star pattern. He finds out about the odd bits and baubles of the town that are odd, yes, but not deadly and kind of endearing.

Today is one of these days.

Cecil is in the lab, staring at Carlos as the scientist furiously tries to complete the equation he has on his notepad. It can't be possible--and it isn't. When he finishes the equation and looks over it twice--with the occasional glance at an obviously ogling Cecil--he can't believe what he sees.

"The radio station has no mass," he whispers. He stands up. "How does the radio station not have any mass?"

Cecil just sort of sighs and doesn't seem to pay attention to what he says. Carlos frowns. "Cecil."

Cecil blinks and then shakes his head. "Oh, yes! Well, um...station management might have something to do with that. Or the new vending machines."

Carlos begins pacing back and forth, not paying attention to the equipment beside him. Particularly, in this case, the large plastic container of scrap metal that's teetering dangerously over the edge of one of the shelves.

"But how can it not have any mass?" he ponders aloud. "I've been inside-- _we've_ been inside. We've felt it, touched it. It can't be antimatter because antimatter cannot touch other matter, it's--it's impossible!"

"It was probably just something they did to cut down the cost of building renovations," Cecil suggests. "Or something like that."

Carlos looks up from his pacing. "You think so?" he asks, sincerely.

Cecil blinks, and his tattoos swirl around in confusion. "Um...yes?"

"I'll have to take that into account," the scientist tells him. "After all, you work there." He sighs, rubbing his forehead. "And in a town like this it's probably true. But it doesn't seem lethal yet, and as long as you're safe it can't be that bad."

It's when Cecil responds that Carlos realizes he's said the last sentence out loud.

"You...you really think that?" Cecil asks, and he goes.

Carlos coughs. "Um...well..."

And it is then that the tub of scrap metal decides to cliff dive off of the shelf, tumbling down above Carlos's head. Carlos looks up and shields himself, waiting for the feeling of impact. But for some strange reason it doesn't come.

He looks up, and sees the tub a couple feet above his head, being held up my an inky black thing that's winding around it. It's a sort of dark violet purple on the underside, with grape-colored suction cups. His eyes move down to try to find the source of the tentacle, and it ends in the blonde man before him along with about five other tentacles. It's a bit hard to count them, since they're all moving and he's in shock.

"Well that was close," Cecil says, visibly sighing. "That tub could have fallen on you and ruined your gorgeous face and hair." The tentacle then rises up and places the tub back on the shelf, pointedly shoving it far away from the edge.

Carlos doesn't really pay attention to the compliment and more so the black mass wriggling on the radio host's . "Um...uh," he says ever so eloquently. "Y-You--you've got something on your back."

Cecil frowns. "I do?" he asks, turning around. "I don't see anythi--oh. You mean the tentacles." He laughs nervously. "Um. Well." He clears his throat. "Forgot that you didn't know."

"You...have tentacles."

"On my back, yes."

"Are they always there? Do you...hide them or something?"

He shakes his head. "Well, no. I mostly just use them for work. You know, grab notes, press buttons. I don't like to have them out much; most of the citizens have an cephalopod phobia ever since that giant squid dropped down from the sky." He rolls his eyes. "More of a pest than a danger, if you ask me. But they don't really appear unless I want to, or for instinctual reasons. If I'm worried or threatened, the usual stuff." His face goes five shades deeper. "Or if something I care about is in danger."

Carlos stirs at the last comment, but chooses to focus on more important things. He circles around Cecil, going to the source of the inky black mess on the center of Cecil's back. "How long have you had them?" he inquires. "If you don't mind me asking, of course."

"Oh, no," Cecil dismisses. "Not at all. I think...middle of puberty? Yes. It was normal. I mean, that's usually when things start appearing anyways. Pimples, body hair, deeper voice. Eldritch-like appendages."

"They're fascinating," Carlos comments. He takes a moment to grab one of the six tentacles in his hands, studying it.

"I really shouldn't distract you from your work," the blonde man says. "I'll put them away."

And with that, it seems like there's a vacuum in Cecil's back in which all the tentacles are sucked back into. They disappear in the blink of an eye, and his back is bare. His shirt is as it was before, no signs of ripping or damage. Like they were never there in the first place.

"Where do they go?" the scientist wonders aloud.

Cecil shrugs, turning around to face him. "I've never really found out. But hey wherever they go, they're gone, right?"

Carlos quickly returns to the subject of the radio station having no mass, and after another hour of nodding and asking questions Cecil goes home. Later that night, Carlos turns on the radio after the sun sets and listens to Cecil's voice as he heads home.

"...but fortunately only 5 people were harmed in the process. My, my that must have been embarrassing. And speaking of embarrassing," Cecil says, quickly transitioning to another subject and another voice as his professionalism drops. "Something absolutely blush-worthy happened to me today. I was in smart, efficient Carlos's lab--you know, observing his findings and all that--and Carlos had found out something rather shocking about our very radio station. Apparently this station has no mass. Isn't that interesting, listeners? And I told him not to fret; after all, the budget has been tight lately, and I'm sure taking out all of the mass of the station will cut some of the mortgage bill." A pause. "But _anyway_ , Carlos began to pace and there was this horrible bin of things teetering over the edge. And sweet, innocent Carlos just had to stand under it."

Carlos snickers at that, feeling the familiar warm sensation that runs through him whenever Cecil starts talking about him.

"And he said that he really cared about me, too!" Cecil asks. "Did you hear, that listeners. Oh...but that isn't the point of this story. Now, some of you may know about my 'condition', if you could call it that..." Cecil then proceeds to retell the story exactly as it happened, with some added commentary.

"He called them fascinating!" Cecil gushes. "That's got to mean something, right listeners? First the phone call and now he's complimenting my extra limbs...that man, listeners. That beautiful man." He sighs.

Carlos sighs too.

**#**

Sometimes he gets close to telling him. It's mostly by accident, but he gets close. And the more Cecil talks to him and about him the more Carlos stops thinking that it's a gigantic joke. And he wants to say something, he really does, but...he can't. It is impossible for him to actually go up to the man/cephalopod/whatever he is and say, "Why don't we go out to dinner and a movie sometime? Why? Because I like you, of course."

It seems easy, but it isn't. It isn't at all.

**#**

Carlos knows that Cecil isn't 100% human. The sentient tattoos and tentacles are enough proof for him. But this...he hadn't expected this. Night Vale may be unpredictable, but Cecil is a close runner up at this point.

He says hello to the new and/or not yet dead interns that are in the front office and goes up to the third floor, heading for the sixth door on the left. He opens it as quietly as he can, entering a dark room that is almost pitch black. He can see a desk light, and the colorful blips of the readings on the machines and button markers. Cecil is in the middle of a broadcast, and is currently reading out an important notice while holding others at the ready in two of his six other appendages. He is like a massive shadow that's illuminated in the front. One of the interns hands him a piece of paper, which he takes and places with the other notices. During all of that he doesn't stop talking.

"And now here is a word from our sponsor," he says smoothly before pressing a couple buttons. 

Carlos clears his throat. "Um, Cecil?"

The radio host turns around at the sound of his name and smiles, his face glowing. "Carlos!"

No, I mean _literally_ glowing. And not just his face, his whole body as well. It's a soft glow, and it flickers like candlelight against the pitch black color of the recording room.

Carlos would usually say something. He should, but after the incident back at the lab he's given up on being surprised. Cecil could be an apparition or a projection of his own mind for all he cares by now. It still wouldn't change anything.

"I--ah--I came by to tell you something about those black holes that appeared a couple months back. I knew you would be here by then and tried to call you, but you didn't answer. So I came here."

"Oh?" Cecil asks.

"Yeah," Carlos says, nodding. "You see, I was doing a follow up report and--"

"Commercial break ends in ten seconds!" one of the interns calls out. Cecil goes wide eyed and transforms back in professional mode, appendages pressing buttons and gathering up papers in four seconds flat. The glow stays.

"Well, well," he says. "It looks like we have a visitor in our station today. Yes, listeners, Carlos the scientist is here. I'm sure he wouldn't mind an interview."

Carlos fervently points at the clipboard he's holding, trying to convey a message of urgency. Cecil blinks and it looks like he understands.

"It seems that Carlos cannot be reached for an interview today, I'm afraid," he says, talking into his microphone. "However, it seems that he wishes to convey a message to you with his beautiful, caramel voice. Carlos?"

Gulping, Carlos walks forward as Cecil moves over, giving him room to lean in and tap the mic.

"It, uh, it looks like the black holes that sprung up a while ago are back again," he says. "So please, I beg of you, stay away from them. There have been reports of voices being heard through the black holes, along with other strange phenomena. But, again. Do not. Approach. The black holes. At. All." He pauses. "Thank you. Now you can go back to Cecil's...good voice."

He backs away, and Cecil starts talking again.

"Well, you heard it from the proverbial horse's mouth," Cecil soothes. "Not that I'm comparing Carlos to horse, as he is the exact opposite with he exception that he is graceful and magnificent. Now, in other news, a little girl with no hands has appeared in the art room of Night Vale Elementary..."

**#**

He's sitting on the bench again, eating his sandwich. Today has been a calm day. He's found nothing threatening (yet), and has no need to rush over to Cecil in order to alert the people of Night Vale. He's not enjoying today that much, though. It's a calm day but it's not _interesting_. There's none of the shock value he encounters on a daily basis.

Or maybe he's spoken too soon.

He's deep in his thoughts, so he doesn't hear the footsteps aimed towards him. He does, however, feel more weight settle onto the bench he's stationed on. He looks up to see Old Woman Josie and the angels sitting complacently next to him.

"Hello," he greets, smiling before taking another bite of his sandwich.

Old Woman Josie smiles back, and the angels blink in unison. "Hello," she replies.

He looks up towards the angels. "Going out for lunch again?" he asks.

They both nod.

Carlos looks down at his food. "Uh...I'd offer you some, but I didn't get any breakfast this morning. Sorry about that."

"Oh, they don't mind," the senior citizen reassures him. "They're not one for roast beef anyway."

Carlos shrugs. "To each his own." He takes another bite.

It's silent for the next couple of minutes before Josie speaks. "You should tell him," she says.

Carlos frowns, stopping mid-chew. "Hm?"

"You should tell him how you feel, and soon," she clarifies. "The angels have a feeling that something bad is going to happen soon. And not the usual bad. Something worse."

"O...kay," he drawls out. "Um. Thanks?"

"Only doing my duty, dear," she says in a soft voice.

Carlos finishes his sandwich and says goodbye to the angels and Josie as he heads back to the lab. If his calculations are right, he think he's found out something interesting about the supposed city underneath the bowling alley...

**#**

He's dying. If he ever thought that he was going to die in Night Vale, he certainly didn't think it would be because of tiny murderous people.

He's getting swarmed my the millions and he's lying on the ground out of reach from anybody who can help. He's practically a dead man.

And he didn't tell him.

**#**

The Apache Tracker jumps in and gets him out, at the cost of his own life. Carlos is hauled away, quickly patched up, and the news is sent out. He drives away from the scene, hoping to head towards his apartment but stopping short when Cecil's voice filters in. He listens, and he pulls over into the Arby's parking lot because his limbs feel too numb to steer the wheel any longer.

Carlos sits on the trunk of his car, playing the radio as he looks along the skyline of Night Vale and the glowing lights above the Arby's sign. He waits impatiently for the service announcement to end, because he knows that Cecil must know by now and if anything he doesn't want him to suffer any more than he already has.

He grins as the familiar soothing voice returns, smiling through the sound waves.

"Carlos will be--in fact--okay." There's giddy laughing. " _He’s okay!_ "

Carlos would think that by now Cecil would be glowing like a flashlight. He underestimates, though, as a pulse of blinding light blinks into existence from somewhere inside the Night Vale community radio station.

**#**

He tries calling Cecil, even though he's still on the air and recounting the events that played afterward. He leaves a text message, saying that he needs to see Cecil in the Arby's parking lot immediately because he really does. He _needs_ to see Cecil.

And Cecil, being the person he is, announces it on the radio and arrives not five minutes later, still twinkling like a Christmas tree with his tattoos almost leaping off of his skin in an attempt to attach to Carlos.

They talk, and Cecil sits next to him. They watch the lights. And Carlos wants to say it. He really, _really_ wants to say it but he still can't. So he doesn't.

He just does it instead.

Some might classify that having your hand on your new glowing boyfriend's lap as he leans his head on your shoulder as strange. Carlos doesn't.

To him, it's perfectly normal.


End file.
